


Deathless

by airotsa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Enjoy!, F/F, also both of them have questionable moral compasses, but i also do not know how to not make something that ends in hea, i do not know how to not write angst, look - Freeform, sooo, soooo, which is also something i do not know how to not do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airotsa/pseuds/airotsa
Summary: They're a tragic story, make Shakespeare proud; Agatha has never known how to exist in the middle, always craving more and more until she's, again, at the edge of self-destruction. Morgana has never known how to feel as keenly without letting it consume her and those around her, keeping her heart in a cage, like the corsets they forced on her, in her youth.And the tragedy is this; like many of his characters, they have paid for their happy endings in blood and suffering.Perhaps deserving can be enough, for once.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Reader, Agnes (WandaVision)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I just had to hop on the Agatha train and this is the result. 
> 
> Picks up just after Wanda uno reverses Agatha, so there are spoilers and a theory of mine peppered in.

_DEATHLESS._

_I._

“Good girl.” Dressed as the witch she was meant to become, the Scarlet Witch closed in on your love, a thousand clashing emotions on her pretty features. Another loss, the one of an almost friend, of an almost being understood.

The woman she had searched for, waited for since she got her hands on the book of the damned. The only person, perhaps, that could make Agatha Harkness tremble ever so slightly in despondent fear. Certainly, the only sorceress capable of conjuring her crown physically instead of just having it made out of magic.

And of bloody course, it had come to this, _“Enough.”_ Appearing between the two, you were determined to keep things from escalating further, “Of all the witches to try and drain you choose her, even when I’ve told you so many times that not all rules can bend for you.” You spat at the blue-eyed woman on the floor, tone vicious, cutting.

Wanda tilted her head to the side, getting ready to attack. The girl should really work on her obvious tells, the more a fight is predictable, the easier it is to win and so, you rolled your eyes as she tossed a blast of energy your way. The witch that could no longer use your magic for being dense throwing herself in front of you.

Huffing you pushed Agatha out of the way, the red energy passing right through you. Looking at the brunette you hissed, “Must you always be so melodramatic?” She shrugged. Nice, considering she doubled your age. Really mature. One arch of your eyebrow and she went limp, eyes rolling to the back of her head, lids closing.

“Look, Wanda- Oh, really? Can’t you see it’s doing nothing to me?” Now the kids and Vision were getting ready to support the matriarch of their family. Monica was frowning, unsure of what was happening. This was going swimmingly.

“Let’s at least try, alright? Pleased to make your acquaintance- Don’t interrupt, dear, it’s not polite to do so, much less to your elders. My name is Morgana.” Your mother had given you the name of a legendary witch, not knowing that as the saying went, blood was thicker than water, “I mean you no harm, unlike that twat right there.”

Her eyes glowed red, her onslaught continuing, “How can you still use your magic? Why haven’t I seen you before? Who are you?” She was getting more agitated by the minute and in that moment, you could empathize with her desperation.

Extending your hands, you said, “It is not magic as you know it. It’s very hard to explain but simply put, I am always half gone between planes of existence.” You had come to Westview moments after the anomaly was born. Flying was nice but moving between worlds to exactly where you wanted to be was faster, one of the many perks of belonging to two of the Infinity Stones; the Mind and the Soul Stone, as extremely powerful sorceresses did. The Scarlet Witch the exception of exceptions, her being tied to all six.

Like a reasonable woman you fancied yourself to be you had stayed out of sight whilst Agatha paraded herself around, taunting Wanda with too brief moments of awareness, little comments easily disregarded, enabling the girl to do as she pleased, “One comes to appreciate subtlety with age. Some of us, anyways.” Well, you couldn’t blame her there, every witch had at least one breakdown that ended up badly when life inevitably took too much from her… When was yours again? Ah, yes, 1869, a few months into your twentieth birthday, the Social Season had been hard on the newly orphaned, newly appointed Duchess of Manchester from His Majesty’s, King George’s court.

You approached the Scarlet Witch as one might a dangerous and wounded animal and step by painfully slow step she let you, fingers twitching just in case her faith in humanity led her astray once more, “I want to show you something, nonetheless, to my understanding your head’s been messed around with a lot lately, so I am asking you. If you say no I will respect it, I give you my word, although things would be easier this way... This will be considerably more invasive.”

Shockingly, when you outstretched your hand she took it, albeit her grip was more like a caress, “Thank you, Wanda.” Her eyes narrowed as the town as she knew it faded away, replaced by one of her many cages, one she had spent five years in. You took pity on her, changing the scenery to something that would resemble something that didn’t have her recounting how her grief had been, literally, unescapable.

“I’m sorry to bring you back.” Taking a seat in the grass you patted the spot next to you, not taking offence when Wanda stayed put, “Agatha is right; You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, even so, your path is your own to walk so I won’t twist my words to make it sound like you _need_ us to guide you through it.”

You closed your eyes, too many voices, whispers in your mind to make sense of, “The DarkHold will change you, yet you and I know you haven’t been the same since they took your infancy from you, your brother, your soulmate and now your precious baby boys…” True to her chaos magic, Wanda was haunted from within, tainted down to her very cells.

“Life is like that; it takes and takes and takes and it never stops doing so.” And didn’t you know what it felt like, the utter and complete inability to control the depth of your feelings. Suffering, loss, suffering, loss, suffering, loss, a never-ending cycle of hurting, so much pain that eventually it became pointless to try and keep count of the _why’s_.

“We have unnaturally long lives, which only makes it all the more unbearable but if it’s any consolation, eventually, you learn to live with being the person that survived those things.” If only whatever higher powers were out there had seen it fit to have some kind of mercy on the creatures they burdened most then maybe fairy tales wouldn’t be so farfetched, “You make your peace with losing, even if it never stops aching.”

“I think you are as tired as me.” You couldn’t remember not being tired, it had been so long since the world had been simple and pleasant any semblance of peace just lived in your memories and even those were too far gone lately.

It hadn’t been a part of your training how to play an invisible host to half the universe whilst trying to keep the other half from jumping off bridges for years on end. Slow to anger, you didn’t hate easily, yet nothing could keep you from ‘playing’ with Thanos’ immortal soul when you felt like imploding, “Indeed.”

Finally, Wanda sat next to you, her head hung low, a bitter half-smile on her face and though she couldn’t cry here, you reckoned her body was doing so, back in Westview.

“She wasn’t always like this, you know?” That comment snapped her out of it, lips pursing but the witch she met had been created too; alone for far too long, hunted for far too long, unloved for far too long until the hurt calcified into a heart made of hellfire, one that had once been as nurturing as the sun, “Granted, Agatha heard voices in the darkness that lured her in, they corrupted her every night, hidden in every shadow, but something broke irrevocably when her coven and her mother tried to kill her.” It very seldom thawed. Sometimes not even for you.

“She couldn’t help it, truly, the Power Stone is greedy, so she is the same. No amount of power will ever be enough, no amount of knowledge.” ‘ _Of love,’_ You didn’t say those last words, no matter that somewhere deep down a part of you was always screaming because of that, “It is her nature. Just like yours is choosing what’s right when your heart yearns to be selfish.”

“The Scarlet Witch is forged, selected meticulously for a reason.” The two of you might look to be the same age, alas, with over a century of life over her, “Agatha hasn’t got the ability to give the world, the people that have torn her to pieces over and over, another chance.” You couldn’t help but to compare her curiosity to that of a baby witch’s that had just discovered she had a knack for making pens float through the air.

“Don’t get me wrong, she is not evil- Such a simple, insufficient word- We are all shades of grey, hers constantly darker than most.” Chuckling and clearing your throat to try to cover it up, you smiled to Wanda, with teeth and all when her eyes shone with amusement instead of disdain, “She will choose herself, her desires above what should be.”

“You love her.” The redhead was clever but that hadn’t been a masterful deduction, everyone that had heard you talk or look at Agatha could come to the same conclusion in the span of a few seconds.

It would have been preferable that Wanda had been so overwhelmed as to not yet make the connection, though, “I do.” To be fair you had kind of shot yourself in the foot defending her, “She is to me what Vision is to you.”

“You are so different.” The poor thing didn’t know how wrong she was, the two of you were so similar it was terrifying. Your choices, those were what set you apart, what made the distance between you impossible to close when either of you desperately needed it to.

Waving her concerns away with a swat of your hand, you commented, “He is the calm to your storm. As am I to hers.” There would be time for getting to know one another. Later. Much later. Witches, sorceresses had nothing if not time.

Picking up a flower, Wanda started tearing it apart, petal by petal, like Ariel had done in The Little Mermaid, “Why are we here?”

Instead of answering her, you sighed and burying the heels of your boots further into the dirt, you hugged yourself, “Agatha’s right; there will always be torches for ladies like us.”

After the trials there was still the church, “They might have you in a jail they tell you is a home. They might have you with a collar around your neck so they can believe they’re in control.”

After the church there were still organizations such as HYDRA, “ _I_ think women, no matter if they possess powers or not, were made to break the roles they try to force on us.” Behind those thrones of glass men such as Hayward.

And after they or their empires fell, another one to rise from the ashes, “Wanda Maximoff, you know who you are and your actions, although sometimes extremely questionable, are the ones of someone that lives in hope that things will be better one day.”

Ideals and delusions no one could control, just fight, “Hope is nothing but love towards others, towards yourself.” Endless conflicts, too grand sacrifices.

“Agatha’s right; You will destroy the world. But some people will say you created it.” Two sides to every story, two sides to every coin, both just as true, “Some people are certain chaos is order.”

“I would argue prophecies can be interpreted a million ways; don’t you think?” You had seen it happen before, heroes and villains making a decision that rewrote the whole story, “It picked you for a reason and who am I to doubt magic itself?” The woman beside you had the capacity to be so much more than what that horrible book said she could be, already was, “Ultimately, the beginning and the end, you define what they mean.”

Standing and brushing off your pants, you offered Wanda your hand, helping her up, “I apologize, I am a wretched teacher, though I am trying. I lack the patience and I don’t think I could ever be the mentor you want or require.”

Westview materialised around you. A minute you had been gone here, whilst in the world between worlds it had been something close to a couple of hours, “Alas, the only one that could fill that role has broken your trust.”

“I can’t let her go free.” Locking eyes with Vision, you nodded your head so subtly, his enhanced senses made him the only one that noticed, “She betrayed me.” Unknowingly to Wanda, he had been listening in the whole time. He was, after all, a part of her soul she could never break apart from, “She’ll never leave me be.”

“That’s why I’m staying with her.” Sidestepping you blocked her way, lowering your mental shields so that she understood. Nevertheless, her hand came up, the spell ready to be cast, “Not with Agnes, with Agatha.” As you had already told her, patience wasn’t a gift of yours, “And even if you cloud her mind she’ll find a way out, sooner rather than later. Her wrath is another thing altogether compared to what you’ve seen.” Your voice, your tone made of steel, “You’re clever, you know she still has three centuries of knowledge and practice over you.”

“If Vision is the only one that could pull you back from that bottomless pit then it stands to reason I’m the only one that can contain her.” You didn’t do it when it was convenient for the redhead but you had your motives. And you weren’t budging on more mind control when she was about to go experiment with the DarkHold.

“Wanda, darling, I do believe her.” _Finally!_

“Vis-” Glaring at her significant other Wanda tried to argue when one of the twins spoke.

“Me too, mum.” Thank the Gods for telepaths. You would miss the boys, that much was for sure.

There was a reason Agatha hadn’t really hurt either of them, just antagonized them, “Tommy?” She honestly couldn’t stand the majority of kids. It was a wonder she had been one herself.

“Don’t make me regret it.” Wanda warned before turning on her heel and walking off back to her house.

_╶_

Agatha came back to herself with a gasp and her right hand against her frantic heart, recognizing the room she was in and the woman on the window, “How dare you?” As Morgana in her estate in Manchester, “How _could_ you?!”

Standing up she grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around so they were facing the other, “You picked _her!_ ”

“You left me no choice.” The witch answered her, all of her ice-cold.

It made her blood boil, the way she could go back to being a proper aristocrat, a prim lady, on a whim. Emotionless, uncaring, “ _I don’t give a fuck!”_ Agatha cursed.

Panting, because she had wanted to blast her out the window and take off flying far away from this oh so humble mansion, “Your magic is subdued, back to how it was as a child.” And all she had managed was making herself feel sick, “It will be many months, maybe years until it gets back to how it was a week ago and that’s thanks to me, dear.”

“A mercy you didn’t deserve. Be glad you aren’t Agnes, I know how you hated being a housewife.” Eyes reddening with tears she wouldn’t let fall as she stared at her shaking palms whilst Morgana sipped on her stupid tea.

She grabbed her wrist, the mug shattering against the floor, “Ah, ah, _ah.”_ Running to the door only to find it locked, “I’m afraid that for once you can’t make your dramatic exit.”

“You left first.” Agatha whispered, _‘I’ve only spared my heart every time after,’_ Her forehead resting against the cedar.

A cold hand on her shoulder, “Did I?” A mocking tone in her ears.

“Do not-” She manoeuvred them so that she was pinning her Grace against the hardwood, “Play your games-” Hands on either side of her face, eyes on her lips, “With me.“

Kissing the younger woman hard enough to bruise, it grew heated quickly and her thigh came to rest between her legs, blood rolling down her mouth when she was harshly bitten for daring, “You’ve denied me since the day I laid eyes on you.” Agatha sneered.

”And why?” She breathed. Blue eyes turning purple for a second as she depleted the last of her magic to prove her point, the orange crown that appeared blinding her for a second, “Because of your badge of honour, though you only have it when it suits you?”

Her rage at what she had never been good enough to have finally surpassed her already tired mind, her frayed nerves. It had her hitting her soulmate’s chest with balled fists over and over again until dry sobs left her lungs and strong arms encircled her frame.

Bile rose in her throat then, wide, ocean eyes searching hers, “Did she see it?” And had she been able to, Agatha would’ve bludgeoned the girl with her own two hands for- ‘ _No,’_ Oh. Well, it wasn’t her way to reveal how much of a predator she was when she wanted someone on her side, “Called it.” She hadn’t, nevertheless, the witch smirked.

She knew Morgana cunning enough to outwit even her, “Wanna know how? I know you better than you know yourself.”

A match made in heaven or perhaps in hell.

“And I you.” With that she disappeared into the smoke to the other side, sliding down to the floor.

Agatha slammed her palms against the door, “Let me out.” Switching to fists soon enough, the sides of her hands turning red, “Let me out!” Kicking at the door with bare feet, no matter how it hurt, _“LET ME OUT!”_ Sliding to the floor, too, “I’m not sorry.”

“Neither am I.” Morgana muttered.

Laying down on her side in a fetal position, “I love you.” The only words they couldn’t twist into charming lies.

“I know.” They absolved them. They damned them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I've never written an x reader thing before so for my peace of mind I had to give the character a name. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this!
> 
> The rating will probably (most likely) change in later chapters.
> 
> So, scream in my inbox (@agathaharknass tumblr) or in the comments if you want?


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Dr Strange (poor man can't get a break) and Señor Scratchy and James the butler because Batman was my childhood and I always wanted my very own Alfred and your girl has to make do with only fanfic for the stories in her head.
> 
> A ridiculous rivalry, an old prophecy, the next villain and angst all in a day's work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I think I will update again on Wednesday or Thursday just to get my outline as clear as possible! So, I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter.

_II._

The soft knocking on the door woke her up. Agatha’s head was ringing, making her forget everything around her as she kicked away the cotton sheets off her body, getting up and leaning against one of the four posters for a minute, suddenly dizzy, “I’m coming!” What she wouldn’t do for some painkillers.

The sight that met her was a completely unpleasant one, like having a bucket of water thrown at her face whilst in her favourite ceremonial robes or having her favourite wine spilt into an ancient book. A balding man in his late seventies stood before her, “ _James.”_

She was clad in only a knee-length, sheer, silk nightgown and so he adverted his eyes as polite society mandated. Cackling madly, Agatha stumbled back all the way to her bed, “Howth is her Grace, ol’ chap? Still mad at her lady luv’?”

He crinkled his nose in disgust at her outburst. So easily irritated. Nice. She laughed harder, holding her womb.

The butler, oh dear God, the butler that hated her guts as much as she hated his. If Morgana wanted to further torture her she couldn’t have found anyone as willing or as better suited for the job. Props to her for the sheer wickedness it took to force them to be in the same room.

Checking his watch, James stepped in, opening the thick drapes that kept the morning sun at bay, “Hey!” Agatha shielded her eyes with her hand, throwing the upper part of her body back into the mattress.

“Mistress Montagu is taking her evening tea with the Sorcerer Supreme at the moment.” Her eyebrows made a raise for her hairline, then, “Back in New York.” His words were so clipped, his tone so bratty and _posh._ Like he had been born to infuriate her into a frenzy. Sitting, she put her hands in front of her face, fingers flexing, imagining herself strangling the life out of him.

Adjusting his waistcoat, he sniffed, the ends of his moustache moving like the tail of a rat, “It’s half past one in the afternoon, alas, we were under strict orders to let you rest.” Agatha glared at him; she could be accused of regularly practising every sin to ever exist except for sloth. (And lust, God knew she hadn’t slept around since the moment she had laid eyes on _her._ How pathetic to be rendered celibate by someone who didn’t want her.) _Anyways,_ every time she left she thought it was impossible to dislike Mister I-disapprove-of-the-universe-at-large-but-most-of-all-this-match more and every time she came back she found that statement to be proven untrue.

“Furthermore, I’ve been told that your stay here, Miss Harkness, will be quite prolonged this time, which leads me to-” Now he smiled, teeth too white and perfect for someone his age, revealing the ridiculous amount that made it into his bank account, “Someone must’ve beat ya up pretty g’awd this time.”

He didn’t- He did not- Agatha was going to kill his wrinkled ass magic or not.

“Before we get ahead of ourselves and the rest of the staff have to call the cops for attempted murder, I’ve also been told that you’re to use this.” From his pocket, he produced three credit cards, “To procure a new wardrobe and some adequate technological equipment for your entertainment.” Would it kill him to say ‘a laptop’ or ‘a phone’? Honestly? “And lastly, to arrange your chambers to your liking.”

Alright. An acceptable first bribe, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be difficult about it, “How do you propose we do that? We’re four hours away from London.” She said, twirling her pointer finger in the air, tilting her head. James opened his mouth and closed it. He must’ve thought she could still fly or portal away.

“I am _not_ taking the train.” Wait, what else had the butler said- Chambers? She had always stayed in a guest room, what was the difference between that and apparently, this? Ugh. Her mind was a mess, the edges of her vision blurry.

A maid knocked five consecutive times on the door and James bolted for it, whispering something along the lines of, _‘Bollocks’_ and _‘Shite’_ as the girl squeaked all her words out like a dying mouse before grumbling, “Madam.” And leaving her to her own devices.

Stretching like a cat, Agatha smiled, “Uh-huh. Bye-bye!” May God be good and just so the man fell down from one of the many staircases and broke his neck. Amen. Ah, blasphemy, her dearest, oldest friend. The witch would’ve crossed herself but that would be overselling it and she had no audience that could appreciate the gesture.

Standing up she rubbed her eyes and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her skull still threatening to split in two, her eyes scanned two doors and an archway, so she tried her luck with the logical and easiest choice. It led to a walk-in closet bare of the clothes it was meant to hold save for one outfit she supposed was meant for her to use today. In the middle a square, plush, _massive_ bench. Between one of the walls that held the racks, a display that went from floor to ceiling, designed for showcasing various pieces of jewellery, the whole thing protected by a large piece of glass that opened with a _‘whoosh’_ when she pressed her hand into the monitor. To her left another archway. It one led to a luxurious bathroom, with a tub incrusted into the floor, the jets visible from where she was, a shower that could easily fit five people, a mercifully normal toilet and next to it the sink.

Not bad. Not bad at all. She might despise the background of her soulmate and the way she was brought up but it had certainly given the woman great taste for the finer things in life.

Taking the pills left on the sink and popping them in without any water Agatha stepped out, taking the clothes with her and throwing them on the bed.

She was about to change when her extensive practice alerted her that she was being watched. Trying to expand her energy to find the intruder she clenched her teeth, reminded again that her magic was gone for the time being, “Listen, I know you probably didn’t mean to intrude but we all know that if Morgana-” _‘Thump.’_

_‘Thump, thump, thump.’_

She knew that sound. Turning her head fast enough to have her neck protest she saw something she couldn’t believe she had missed before. In the right corner of the room there was a cage that stood as tall as her and behind the bars of the highest level a bunny on his side looking at her, “Señor Scratchy!” Agatha cried, rushing to him.

Opening the latch, she took him into her arms, rubbing her nose against his. Hugging the animal to her and bouncing him as mothers did their babies she started, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

He had probably already answered her as she was just registering the silence, she knew, “I- I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.”

Witches could usually learn to talk to animals, could easily bond with them over their shared connection with the elements and so familiars weren’t _that_ hard to find but Agatha had spent the majority of her life denying herself the opportunity until a camping trip where Morgana had found the injured rabbit and tasked her with watching over the biting and scratching mongrel until she had the potions ready.

If she had turned him half-demon afterwards so he would share her life span through her magical core then no one could blame her. Much.

Señor Scratchy looked at her with too-big eyes, “I’m fine.” She lied, sighing when it extended its’ foot towards her face, “She’s taking good care of us. Always has. Everything is going to be just fine.”

╌

Stephen Strange had never been a man easily phased, nonetheless, with what the woman in front of him had just told him he couldn’t help but put his cup down and rest his hands on his kneecaps, “So, you’re telling me she tried to drain Wanda, pardon me, the Scarlet Witch of all people and expected to _win,_ which just ended in her very essence locking itself up and going into self-destruct?”

“And now Wanda has the _DarkHold?_ " He wasn’t paid enough to deal with this kind of bull- He wasn’t paid at all; all of his money came from the Duchess whilst he built back his capital for the very long centuries awaiting him.

Sometimes he really wished he had closed the door before the witch had invited herself into his home and his life, as constant as his cape and twice as entertaining when she wanted to be, “And you’re asking _me_ to fix this mess?”

“Along with giving _Agatha Harkness_ the most valuable healing artefact in my possession?” Her soulmate had made it into his list the moment he had felt the dark aura around her person, had sensed her ability to enter the Dark Dimension though she had yet to learn how, that weekend she had spent trying to pickpocket the eye of Agamotto off his person with impressive skill. How she had found the Sanctum was beyond him.

“That sums it up.” Moving her cup in circles, Morgana drained the last of her tea, crossing her legs one over the other, “Besides, that silly cape of yours should be a constant reminder of your responsibilities, not a fancy prop.” Said assistant made a rude gesture towards the mage, intimidated back into submission by the unwavering stare it got as a result.

“Look-” You tried to appease, “I’m not telling you to go rob the most powerful sorcerer ever born or to even teach her.”

An image of the witch in her cabin appeared between the two of you, her astral form browsing through the book before hearing the voice of her children, “Events are unfolding as it was foretold.” It was only a matter of time until it was up to them to keep the multiverse separate.

“You know the prophecy as well as I do.” The vision faded away into glittering dust that disappeared when it touched the floor.

“Three witches. It’s always _two_ witches that make sure the world doesn’t get blasted into tiny pieces by the most powerful one of the trio.” Snapping your fingers figures danced around you, playing out the moment everything had gone wrong, when Arthur or William the Conqueror as people knew him, was alive.

“Take Agatha out of the equation and we won’t have even _one_ bloody chance of survival.” The fates wouldn’t repeat themselves a third time and she was sick, deathly so; your soulmate had risked all she was and lost. Her body was meant to take, not give, at this rate she’d flicker away by year’s end.

“You and countless others didn’t surrender to a madman for that.” It was a wound that still bled for Stephen, losing his chance with the only woman he had ever loved, the one meant for him, for the greater good, “Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff and Vision didn’t _die_ so their friend, their soulmate, could waste away into nothingness and take the universe down with her.” Morgana was also aware that he had felt a kinship with all of the Avengers, like his destiny wasn’t so much of a burden when others had chosen the same.

“How do you even know the two of you are the missing pieces of this puzzle?” Ever the cynical, clinical physician when uncomfortable, maybe that was why the two of you got along so well, despite the gigantic age gap.

“How dare you question my judgment when the Ancient One was the one that wrote down what happened the first time?” You retorted, stretching your arm and summoning the diary that contained her writings from another room. It landed in the middle of your palm.

The pages fluttered around until you got to the relevant part, “Morgause is killed. Morgana loses the plot getting revenge for her closest sibling. Guinevere turns into a tyrant for the love that never was.” With your finger you guided your eyes, pausing for a moment to gravely state, “Merlin sacrifices _everything_ to stop the last Le Fay sister.”

“They gave you the wrong name this time around.” He huffed petulantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest like the child Stephen still was in so many ways.

“Our kind is reduced to nothing but a handful because of that.” Morgana continued; her brow furrowed. In your estate, there was a hidden library housing texts that told in painful detail how much your numbers had dwindled, almost to the point of extinction and everything it took from the survivors to not let themselves go.

Closing the journal, you put the leatherbound book on the coffee table that held the kettle and the half-eaten pastries, “And just when magic starts to come back, Wanda appears.” Pinching your nose, you exhaled slowly.

Morgana ran her hand through long tresses, swallowing poison back into her system, “The story has been told a thousand times over but after your _promotion,_ you saw what really happened.” Strange how she wasn’t trying to conceal the voices that grabbed the edges of her mind and screamed into her ear, “Mind. Soul. Heart. One of us is taken out and the other two rot.”

“Stephen, I am your closest friend and you are mine.” Biting your lower lip, you sat back down, looking away, closing your eyes. Heart beating thunderously within your ribcage.

It left Morgana in a breathless whisper, “I confess to you that I’ve hurt my soulmate every day of our lives so I won’t fail her when she needs me the most.” It was a wonder Agatha didn’t hate you for all she’d been left without, for all the tiny cuts you had carved into her flesh hoping one day you’d be allowed to stop. _Soon._

“And you know exactly how that feels.” Stephen’s jaw clenched, now he was the one that couldn't stand to look at her.

“So, help me help you. Do- _your- job_.” You stood up, eyes pleading for the first time in an incredibly long while. Still, he didn’t look at you. It was irrational to feel so betrayed by one that hadn’t made you any promises but you did, you would have given him anything in your power had he asked you the same.

“Fine.” Hurt in your body, “We didn’t get a chance the first time and no one is taking that from us now.” Magic at your fingertips, “Not even the Sorcerer Supreme.” And a blast that broke his shield following.

“Would it kill you to say ‘please’ every once in a while?” Brushing himself off and standing up, he rolled his eyes at you.

Making a circle with one of his hands he stuck the other one into the portal, retrieving a ring that looked too unsuspicious for what it actually was, “To show some human emotion without going on the offensive right after?” Taking large strides and gently pressing the ring into your palm before enveloping it between both of his, he squeezed lightly.

“I’ll think about it.” You gave him a light peck on his bearded check, conjuring your own gash in space and time to get back to the manor.

When half of Morgana’s was body gone through it, she called out in a sing-song voice, “Doctor?”

“Hmmm?” Stephen growled. Nothing but trouble could follow when she spoke to him like that and he wasn’t robbing the Vatican Archives _again_ without raiding her cellar first.

For lack of better things to do, he continued to put away the tea service with magic and you seized the moment to have him do a more arduous task for the next couple of hours since it was a priceless relic, “Loki is still alive.”

His spine stiffened, “You have got to be-” The loss of control and the wrongness of his posture sending the china flying, colliding with the walls and shattering loudly everywhere.

Before he could drag you back to explain you beamed, “Have a lovely night, dear!” You had a future wife to get back to and finally you had decided on the ring, though it hadn’t bent meant to be used that way. No matter, it was all the, uh, hype, with the younger generations to repurpose vintage items. Agatha would probably appreciate that.

“Kidding me.” Stephen babbled.

Sinking down into the armchair he hid his face in his hands as his cape patted him on the shoulder, _“Witches.”_ He hissed.

╌

“My lady.” The door opened before you could insert your key, showing you a man that was the perfect incarnation of his ancestor, a living copy of the man that had raised you, down to his mannerisms, whilst your father and your mother were absent from your life, day and night, “Welcome back.”

About to hug him Morgana recoiled, sensing that something had gone extremely wrong, “James-” The butler grabbed her by the elbow before she could storm into Miss Harkness’ quarters to check on her, frankly, rapidly deteriorating condition.

 _“The cold howls and frostbite follows_.” He whispered into her ear. A code only the most trusted members of the staff knew, in case that the jail got strained enough to attempt to break. Steadying the woman, he had come to love as his own with a gentle grip as she tried to find her footing.

Your face drained of all colour. No, no, no no, _no!_ That sodding _bitch_ , that monster and her horrid timing!

“How long?” Tone wavering like the frightened, vulnerable child you hadn’t been in more than a century, one you knew you’d be again when the time inevitably came. Bottom lip quivering. Acid pooling in your gut.

“For what?” Her voice cut like a knife through the rising tension and your mask fell into place seamlessly.

“Agatha!” Reacting like the she-Devil hadn’t come back from your worst nightmares to make you feel unsafe and powerless in your ancestral home, “Darling, do try to make some noise as you move!” Like she knew you finally had a chance to mend the broken pieces of you but still, you would give up without a fight if it kept the person you loved the most, safe.

“Gods, your time undercover with the KGB is going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” The maid behind the pillar giggled, thinking the comment ridiculous, as many of the ones overhead on the daily by the staff were. Phil owed her a tenner for the next time the Mistress worried about something so silly concerning her health.

Agatha didn’t relent, though, pursing her lips and tapping her foot lightly, “Oh.” You spoke, grateful that the witch in front of you couldn’t read the minds around her.

Letting go of James you closed the space between you two, not letting show more than the appropriate amount of concern at the gauntness of her face, cheekbones sharper than they had been in the cold war, “The stables have fallen into disrepair and someone is coming to fix them.” She didn't buy it and why would she, when you couldn't get a leak without James having to coax you out of overalls and a toolbox. 

“Dinner is ready.” Mia, his lady wife, called, coming into the parlour and adjusting her apron, a spot of flour in her chin.

“Come, love.” Locking her arm through Agatha’s, Morgana rested her head on her shoulder, nuzzling into her, “I have a present for you after we eat.” Walking serenely into the dining room, the long table set for two, candles lit throughout the expanse of it.

The brunette was momentarily startled at the unfamiliar touchiness from the other woman, “Did Stephen give it up willingly? Or did he ask for another Porsche?” She scoffed, sitting down unceremoniously on the chair that was pulled out for her by the over-enthusiastic cook.

Looking at James, you sent, _‘Alert him. Now.’_ Into his head and he nodded to his spouse, who scurried out of the room to have her breakdown out of sight.

“A lady never kisses and tells dearest.” Morgana cooed, smiling prettily at the barely perceptible blush that rose in the other witch’s cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I actually had a bunny and the way they see is sideways, so... Anyways, thank you for the amazing response I've been getting!


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